


wake up to the silence

by sirenic (noctiphany)



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Blood, Choking, Dark fic, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Gunplay, Knifeplay, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Unhappy Ending, Verbal Humiliation, degredation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/pseuds/sirenic
Summary: Minghao always said he didn’t have a single ounce of survival instincts, but he wasn’t entirely right. Mingyu knows how to stay alive. He just doesn’t know how to stay away from Wonwoo.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	wake up to the silence

_Everyone needs a place._  
_It shouldn’t be inside of someone else._

\- Richard Siken

~ 

  
“You're late,” Wonwoo says after Mingyu’s back hits the ground. Mingyu should’ve been aware that there was someone else in the apartment as soon as he walked in the door, but it’d been a long fucking day. He’s tired and sore and there’s no way he’ll ever get all the blood out of his shoes, and now this. It's just frustrating. Those were his favorite fucking shoes.

“I can’t be late if I didn’t know you were coming,” he points out and gets Wonwoo’s knee shoved between his legs for it. _Hard_. It brings tears to his eyes and knocks the breath out of his lungs and makes his dick get so hard so fast it hurts.

“Well, I was waiting,” Wonwoo says, as if that’s the only criteria for if someone is late or not, and Mingyu fucking _hates_ him.

Wonwoo sold them out. Wonwoo is the reason for the nightmares that keep Mingyu awake most nights. He destroyed Mingyu’s life, took away the only family he'd ever had. Wonwoo took _everything_ from him.

He never understood that Mingyu would’ve given him everything if he’d just asked. He would’ve razed the whole world for Wonwoo, burned every city, dropped diamonds and gold at his feet if that’s what would have made him happy, if that's what would've made him _stay_. Or maybe Wonwoo had known the whole time and he just didn’t care. Maybe the only thing Jeon Wonwoo knows is stealing and killing and something given freely isn’t worth anything to him.

Mingyu tries to shove Wonwoo off of him, but Wonwoo just pushes his thigh higher, grabs a handful of Mingyu’s hair and gets right up in his face, so close Mingyu can see the freckles on the bridge of his nose even in the dark.

”Missed you, baby,” Wonwoo says, a saccharine smile on his face that has fooled many — has fooled _Mingyu_ more times than he can count, and they both know it's a lie. It’s just another weapon in his arsenal, another way to get under Mingyu’s skin and dig his claws in. Wonwoo might have missed the way that Mingyu yields to him, the way he arches into his touch, offering his body to be used in whatever way Wonwoo is looking for this time —- but he doesn’t miss _him_.

Mingyu knows this.

Just like he knows he shouldn’t get on his knees for the man who sent his family to rot. Just like he knows that he shouldn’t let Wonwoo wrap his fingers tight around his throat and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze until Mingyu’s toes tingle and the blood pounds in his ears and his lips turn blue. He shouldn't watch him leave every time either, pretending to be asleep, or roll over and press his face into the pillow where Wonwoo had slept, breathing in wood sage and sea salt. There are a lot of things that Mingyu shouldn’t do. It’s getting hard to tell them apart anymore.

“Did you miss me too?” Wonwoo whispers next to Mingyu’s ear as he drags the blade of his knife up and down his side — only the flat part, for now, and Mingyu shudders, goosebumps prickling his skin, and arches into it, despite the signals in his brain telling him to fight, to run.

Minghao always said he didn’t have a single ounce of survival instincts, but he wasn’t entirely right. Mingyu knows how to stay alive. He just doesn’t know how to stay away from Wonwoo.

“I missed your cock,” he says flatly. “Were you planning on fucking me anytime soon?”

It’s easier than admitting the truth. Better than telling Wonwoo that when he betrayed them and went on the run, along with the guns and the drugs and the painting hanging on Jeonghan’s wall, he stole something from Mingyu too. The way that he turned on them and disappeared all in the same day with no warning at all left a hole inside of Mingyu that had never healed, scar tissue growing over his heart until nothing could get through it. Wonwoo never loved him, Mingyu knows that too. But at least when they were still together, when they were still _family_ , it was easier to pretend that he might have, one day. Mingyu’s always been good at pretending. It could have worked. If Wonwoo hadn’t left. If Vernon hadn’t run his mouth, if Mingyu hadn't been too much, pushed him too much — it could have worked.

Junhui always said he was delusional. Mingyu can’t argue with that one.

“Hmm,” Wonwoo frowns a little as he sits back against Mingyu’s thighs, dragging the knife up his ribs, over a pebbled nipple, then pushes the flat side of it against his trachea. “I'm pretty sure I remember you having better manners than that.”

Mingyu swallows, feels the blade pushing against his Adam’s apple, then looks up at Wonwoo from beneath his lashes and lets a lazy smirk twist one corner of his mouth up. “Are you still trying to threaten me? Because you can give that up. If you wanted to kill me, you would have already. What do you _want_ , Wonwoo?”

Mingyu bites down on his tongue, hissing between his teeth when Wonwoo drags the knife down his side again, only this time with the pointy end, the pain white hot and searing as it cuts into him and he feels the warmth of his own blood on his skin as it drips down his side.

“Maybe I’m just not done having fun with you yet. Have you considered that?”

Mingyu has thought about that. Sometimes it’s all he thinks about. Why Wonwoo keeps coming back. Why he lied the day it all went down, sending Mingyu on a wild goose chase across the city and coincidentally keeping him out of the chaos. He thinks about it all the time. He knows at this point, he’s just a play thing for Wonwoo. A toy. Mingyu won’t see him for months at a time and then he’ll randomly show up, bored of whatever it is he does now, vibrating with manic energy, and Mingyu is where he lets it out. He could stop him any time, if he wanted. Wonwoo might be smaller than him, but what he lacks in height he makes up for in upper arm strength and crazy. But Mingyu could still stop him. If he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

The sad truth is that he’s fucking starved for it. It’s been ninety-four days since the last time he saw Wonwoo. The last time, he and Soonyoung had been closing a deal at a nightclub in Seoul when he spotted him in the crowd. All it had taken was a slight tilt of Wonwoo’s head and Mingyu was being shoved against the door of a filthy bathroom stall minutes later, Wonwoo’s teeth on his throat and his gun pressed tight against Mingyu’s cock. He buried his hand in Mingyu’s hair and yanked his head back, muttering filth in his ear until Mingyu finally gave in and rocked his hips into it, nails digging bloody half moons into the back of Wonwoo’s neck as he rutted against the hard metal that Wonwoo kept wedged between them. He called Mingyu _slut_ and _whore_ and _dumb fucking dog,_ and Mingyu came in his pants, heartbeat deafening in his ears as Wonwoo laughed at him.

Then Wonwoo had kissed him, soft and slow, carding his fingers through Mingyu's hair before he pulled away and patted his cheek and left Mingyu standing there with come sticking to his Tom Fords.

He can still remember how Wonwoo tasted that night, like cinnamon and cigarettes, how he smelled like the pollution of the city and the same cologne he’s worn forever, crisp and clean, like the ocean in autumn, still remembers the bottle of it that he kept on his nightstand for months after he left. Mingyu remembers everything.

When he opens his eyes again his lashes are damp and Wonwoo is holding the blade, streaked red with his blood, in front of his face. 

“Now be a good boy and clean it for me,” Wonwoo murmurs and his tone is different now, deep and dark and electric, just like his eyes, and in this moment Mingyu is afraid. Not of Wonwoo, but of what he would do for him. In this moment, if Wonwoo asked him to take his knife and drag it across his own throat, he’d probably do it. Mingyu doesn’t know what that means. What it makes him. But it doesn’t matter because Wonwoo would never make him do that. Mingyu’s not important enough for him to go to all that trouble. This is all he’s good for. But it’s okay. It’s good _._

Seungcheol always said something is better than nothing.

Mingyu’s tongue darts out cautiously, avoiding the sharp edge of the blade. Then, as soon as his tongue touches cool metal, he closes his eyes, slowly licking across it. His pulse is racing so fast it makes him dizzy as he gives Wonwoo the one thing, the _only_ thing he has left — his trust. It might be stupid — no, it _is_ stupid, but he's trusted Wonwoo since day one. He always felt safe no matter where they were or what they were getting up to, because he knew that Wonwoo was there, that he had his back. After everything went down and Wonwoo skipped town, Mingyu couldn’t find it in him to give that trust to anyone else. Even though Wonwoo had betrayed it, shattered it into sharp pieces that cut into him like knives, it was still his. It was the only thing between them Mingyu had left.

“Fucking crazy _,”_ Mingyu vaguely hears as his tongue drags across the smooth part of the blade and Wonwoo curses under his breath right as Mingyu hears the knife handle hit the wood floor and his clothes are being ripped off of him.

Wonwoo rides him with little prep and not nearly enough lube, but when he sinks down on Mingyu’s cock he wraps his hands around Mingyu’s throat for leverage and Mingyu stops being able to string together coherent thoughts. He feels likes he’s suffocating, like Wonwoo’s the one inside of _him_. He can’t grab onto anything except feelings 

Hot.

Tight.

Hard.

Mine.

 _No. Not yours_. Mingyu reminds himself. _Never yours._

Jeon Wonwoo has never and will never belong to anyone. He told Mingyu that the first time they fucked. And the second time. And the third and fourth. It became a little game, something he’d hang over Mingyu’s head. As long as Mingyu knew this wasn’t a _thing_ , then he’d get his dick sucked. As long as he didn’t call Wonwoo his _fucking boyfriend,_ he’d fuck him until he cried. He made sure that Mingyu knew what he was getting himself into, so it’s really no one but Mingyu’s fault that he ended up here. Wonwoo warned him. He was just too stupid to listen. Too naive. He wanted to pretend.

 _I don’t need anyone,_ Wonwoo always said and Mingyu envied that about him. What must it be like, he wondered, to not need anyone but yourself? What’s it like not having a sick, aching desire sewn into your very being that just wants to be _owned_?

“Look at you,” Wonwoo smiles down at him, thumbs pressed into the place that blocks the air from getting into Mingyu’s lungs, but without using enough pressure to crush his windpipe. Probably. “You’re so pathetic.”

Mingyu's eyes fall shut and his focus narrows to the fingers around his throat, the whirls and calluses on them. He knows what those fingers feel like inside of him, taking him apart. He knows what they taste like and how far he can take them down his throat before he gags. He remembers linking them with his own once upon a time, Wonwoo’s eyes wild and raw as Mingyu leaned down to lick the coke from his top lip and fuck him until they both passed out. A time that seems so far away and surreal it hardly feels like it happened at all anymore.

“ _Hey_.” Wonwoo’s voice sounds the way people sound when your head is underwater, all funny and garbled, but Mingyu doesn't care what he's saying anyway. He doesn't need to know. It's better this way, everything soft and fuzzy around the edges, not having to think. Not having to remember. Mingyu smiles softly and then there’s a sharp, hot, stinging pain spreading across his cheek from Wonwoo’s palm, Wonwoo's hands no longer around his throat, and all at once oxygen rushes back into his lungs and Mingyu’s coming, back arching off the floor as he gasps for air like he's dying. He wants to reach for Wonwoo, but he can't.

Somethings are worse than dying, Joshua told him once.

Wonwoo is muttering something above him as he crawls up Mingyu’s chest, the words _fucking_ and _stupid_ the only things Mingyu can make out before he’s grabbing Mingyu’s hair by the root and pushing his cock between his lips.

“That's right, take all of it. God, you're starved for it, aren't you?” Wonwoo laughs as he rolls his hips, sliding his cock in farther and using the grip in his hair to bring Mingyu closer until his nose presses against his pelvis. “You can’t get anyone else to fuck you, baby? Or do they just not _get_ you the way I do?”

Wonwoo slides his cock the rest of the way in, not waiting for Mingyu to adjust before burying his cock in Mingyu's throat like it belongs there, a perfect fit, the hand in Mingyu’s hair holding him still as he starts to fuck his face. Mingyu can feel spit running down his chin, can hear himself making awful retching sounds, and he starts panicking at some point, forgetting that he can actually breathe through his nose until Wonwoo slaps him again.

“Do not pass out before I come,” Wonwoo threatens, stroking Mingyu’s reddened cheek as he looks down at him, staring at the way Mingyu’s mouth stretches around his cock and tracing it with his fingers. “Christ, I forgot how much of a slut you are for this. My cock is literally in your throat, Mingyu.”

Soon enough, tears are rolling down Mingyu’s cheeks, mixing with the spit and precome already running down his face. He can feel Wonwoo’s cock stretching his mouth wide, can feel the ache in his jaw already, his throat being shredded raw, and it's...good. _God_ , it's good. He _is_ a slut for it. He's been needing this for so fucking long, to just be held down and used and treated like the useless piece of filth that he is and he hates it, he hates it so fucking much, but Wonwoo was right. There's no else who can give him this.

“I'm gonna come in your mouth now,” Wonwoo says, gripping Mingyu’s chin with his fingers, a statement, not a request. “And you’re going to swallow it all like a good dog.”

Mingyu moans pathetically, then he looks up to see Wonwoo bite down on his bottom lip, throwing his head back as Mingyu feels the first hot splash of come on the back of his throat.

”Fuck,” Wonwoo groans, the hand in Mingyu’s hair shaking, and pulls out far enough that the rest of it spills across Mingyu's bruised, swollen lips. He watches as Mingyu’s tongue darts out to lick it off, then Wonwoo reaches down and pushes the rest of it into his mouth, swearing under his breath as Mingyu sucks them into his mouth greedily.

“Whore,” Wonwoo mutters, fingers stroking over Mingyu’s tongue, free hand still buried in Mingyu’s hair, and Mingyu starts to drift away. His jaw aches and his throat is fucked raw and the cut in his side still stings, but it’s all dulled now. He feels filthy and disgusting and used and there’s just something about knowing that he made Wonwoo come that brings him a kind of contentment that he never gets with anything else, fills him up inside. For a few moments, he doesn’t even feel the hole inside of him that Wonwoo had left, the one that gets bigger each time he leaves. He feels good. He feels sated. He feels, for the first time in months, _happy_.

Then Wonwoo gets up and pulls his pants on.

Sometimes, Wonwoo shows up and they spend the whole night fucking, until Mingyu is a wreck of bite marks and bruises, covered in blood and come as the sun comes up. Sometimes Wonwoo brings rope and leaves Mingyu tied up and bound until he feels like playing with him. Once, Mingyu had even gotten Wonwoo to shower with him before he left and Wonwoo ate him out until he collapsed and his knees had been bruised for days from it. But most of the time it's like this. Wonwoo comes, Mingyu holds on too tight, Wonwoo leaves.

As Wonwoo pulls his boots on, slipping his knife into the left one, Mingyu rolls onto his side and closes his eyes. The sound of Wonwoo’s footsteps as he walks away is as familiar to him as the sound of a clip being loaded, the sound of sirens too far away for him to warn anyone about the storm that’s coming. The door clicks shut and Mingyu reaches down, nails scraping over the cut on his side, making it bleed again.

 _Family isn’t blood,_ Wonwoo had said once, cradling Mingyu in his arms as blood poured from the bullet hole in his gut, the one that had been meant for Wonwoo. Mingyu remembers him shaking, voice trembling as he pressed his hands over Mingyu’s wound and his lips to his forehead. _It's who you’d bleed for._

Jihoon said Wonwoo had been lying for so long that he didn’t know the difference between fact and fiction anymore.

But it’s okay. Mingyu’s always been good at pretending.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I have no idea what this is or what I’m doing, but I think I'll write more?


End file.
